Film Review - Murder on the Orient Express (12A)

And you are innocent?

There's a reason why Murder on the Orient Express is such a perennial Agatha Christie favourite. The train, with its trans-continental trek between Istanbul and Paris, offers a unique combination of glamour and claustrophobia that pretty much demands an accompanying murder mystery to be solved. Way too exotic a mode of transport for Miss Marple, it naturally falls to the cultured and well-travelled Hercule Poirot to carry out on-board investigations when one of the passengers shows up dead in their compartment.

Kenneth Branagh brings Poirot to the screen this time, both taking the helm and waxing up an insanely huge moustache so he can play the brilliant Belgian detective himself. With a screenplay full of wit and playfulness by Michael Green (Logan, Blade Runner 2049) he does a creditable job too, including an unexpected opening sequence that introduces us to Poirot and his eccentricities in a whole new way. 

This is a bigger version of the story than we've seen before, with 1930s Middle Eastern cityscapes giving way to CGI Alpine vistas. It all offsets the confined dimensions of the train, though even inside the camera does lots of intricate work to open up the drama. The Orient Express is decked out almost obscenely in Art Deco luxury, a perfect backdrop for the starry ensemble Branagh has pulled together to play the suspects. Because this is truly a big festive chocolate-box of a movie, with Michelle Pfeiffer and Judi Dench and Johnny Depp, and look - there's your woman from the new Star Wars in period costume! What a gang...

But truth be told this is Poirot's show and Branagh has a ball in the part. Albert Finney will always be my favourite big-screen version of the detective, but Belfast's Shakespearian son does a more than creditable job. He pitches his efforts somewhere between Peter Ustinov's grand-standing and David Suchet's more cerebral TV performance, but makes the role his own. This Poirot is more than a touch obsessive, by his own admission unable to ignore life's imperfections - least of all the moral ones. His flamboyance is anchored by a driving need to see justice done. Psychologically it makes total sense.

If the film has a fault it's that the focus on spectacle and 'tec leaves insufficient room for everyone else. Yes each of our suspects gets their moment (Josh Gad and Derek Jacobi were the genuine star turns for me), but there's simply not enough time given to developing their characters and therefore investing us in their lives. The denouement is one of Christie's most ingenious and delivers a certain dramatic satisfaction, but it might have been more powerful had we hung out for longer with the key players. 

Nonetheless this adaptation is a treat - glossy and snowbound with one or two neat extra touches to magnify the tension. It's an old-fashioned story told with 21st century flair, tailor-made to help audiences through the grimness of November. And that moustache is an architectural miracle.

Gut Reaction: Entertained throughout, if somewhat frustrated that I wasn't getting the know all the passengers better.

Ed's Verdict: A worthwhile trip (interrupted), with a memorable central turn from Branagh - one that tends to eclipse almost everyone else!